


WHO BY FIRE

by MaryLouLeach



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryLouLeach/pseuds/MaryLouLeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson might look like an ordinary man but he's made enemies. And while helping Sherlock solve a serial cop killer case his past comes back to bite him. Or maybe stab and shoot him. Sherlock has to solve this case before it takes another victim one closer to home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. UNLUCKY JURISDICTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins with a dead body.

CHAPTER 1. UNLUCKY JURISDICTION

Lestrade needed answers, this was the third cop in a month, all the same story, the victims left for a shift, and either not shown up for work and were reported missing by a spouse or family member, or worse they went out on a call never reporting back. Only to be found a few weeks later in some random abandoned place dumped, similar wounds, different weapons. But it had to be a pattern. It couldn't be coincidence. He felt stumped, there was nothing linking the men, no common criminals to threaten them, no dirty business, nothing, hell the officers didn't even know each other.

"Sir, its Keithers, Frank Keithers." A young PC that often worked with Lestrade's team approached the DI, his back turned to the body.

"Lets see it." Lestrade commanded, recognizing the name, dammit not another one.

Anderson pulled the sheet back for DI Lestrade, ignoring the PC who had just identified the body. The younger officer Jeffrys turned now, removing his hat, crouching down, he tried to keep a cool face but DI could see the turmoil beneath the young mans facade. "He trained me. I patrolled with him graveyard shift, before they moved me up to days and to London. Damn fine officer."

But what's he doing out here?" Lestrade shook his head, running a hand through his peppered silver hair. Another constable dumped in his city, the older DI had nothing, he swore under his breath. Standing up now, he hadn't known the dead officer, but from the look of the volunteer Sc's standing around quietly not even disguising the fact that they were listening, he could see the man had been well respected in his district. DI Lestrade had glanced over the man's missing persons report, when it came into his office a few weeks back. He had hopped the man had just run out on his wife, but glancing over the missing constables dossier it wasn't likely.

A good officer from his file, been on the force five years, ex military. No blemishes on his work record, nothing to explain why he had been dumped in uniform like garbage, forgotten, a bullet hole through his heart, a city away from where he worked as a traffic cop. Nothing fit.

The department kept this out of the papers, but Lestrade couldn't guarantee for how long. Metro was pressing him and NSY for answers. He sighed pulling out his phone; Sergeant Donovan rolled her eyes and made a very audible sigh knowing who he was about to call.

"Sherlock-"


	2. OH CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!

CHAPTER 2. OH! CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN!

"John! Got a case!" Sherlock pulled the door to the flat open before John could use his key.

"But I just got off a double-" John murmured sliding his black bomber jacket on, holding back a yawn and following his excited flatmate out the door and back down the stairs. He sometimes felt like an older brother being forced to take his hyperactive little brother to a sweets shop, but follow he would.

"John are you listening?" Sherlock sighed irritably; he'd been explaining the case to the Doctor who seemed to be nodding off in the cab.

"What? Oh, yes, murders, cops-" he yawned again.

"Really John why you choose to work at that geriatric infested sweat shop is beyond me." Sherlock didn't bother to look up at his frowning companion.

"It's a hospital not a geriatric sweat shop?" The Doctor mumbled.

" You need your rest between cases, not to be off playing nurse maid to the sniveling and elderly. " Sherlock clicked away on his phone; John only nodded in absent-minded agreement, missing his soft bed.

Two men in a black van with the words: General Constructions printed on the side, watched as the police examined their latest handy work.

"Why are we sticking around now?" Luca the senior officer and the boss's right hand man grumbled.

"Because there're two possible recruits listed in that bunch there and lucky day they are investigating the dump site."

"Yes lucky. I think I'll take a nap while you do the paperwork." Luca moved past the tinted black window of the vehicle, making a pillow out of his own dark green jacket. "I did do all the heavy lifting."

"I picked the sight." Chazz murmured.

"Yeah ya bastard! You did, all the way in London! How creative. And now the van reeks of rotten pig. That wasn't exactly a short drive."

"There was a reason for the area, it's only a mile from where we nabbed the idiot and so it doesn't look like we took him far. Besides the next bunch I promise we can dump wherever you want. I just thought two birds one stone, and our likely candidates well two of them were on the constable volunteer roster."

"Whatever, just get the surveillance so we can report back to the General. He'll want stats on the new recruits, you know how he likes to plan the hunt ahead of time." Luca laid back, having been in the army catching a nap when possible was now ingrained in him, he could sleep through bombs and mortar fire, anything except an annoying four eyed ex army communications officers loud squeaky voice.

"Sir. Check this out. Looks like they've called in company." Luca moved to take the digital binoculars, they sat in the unmarked van unnoticed by anyone, hiding in the open, the van looked like a regular constructions van, common to the rural area, in fact several lined the streets. A genius plan, Luca had thought up.

"What am I looking at?" The older man impatiently barked, Chazz pushed his glasses up the brim of his nose, he adjusted his CO's positioning, slightly directing the binoculars over to the left.

"There, that man there, does he look familiar? Can you see him?" an excited whisper.

"The wanker in the long coat?" Luca growled not wanting to play I SPY with the idiot.

"No, sir, the one behind him-look" Chazz moved the binoculars to where the man behind the dark haired civilian was walking.

"It can't be!" Luca growled zooming in on the familiar figure.

"Yes, I do believe its him. I wouldn't forget his face anywhere."

"Of all the places-Captain Watson?" Luca didn't move the binoculars off the shorter man, he took in every detail of his old Captain. "The Bastard has hardly changed. Looks a bit thinner, but it's the same pompous, arrogant prick. Exchanged his uniform for civies I see. And playing with the police oh how the mighty have fallen." The younger man at his side started snapping pictures, the suggested targets and now of the Captain.

"He doesn't look like he was injured. Maybe he just retired. What do you suppose he's doing on the crime scene?" Chazz watched their old Captain kneeling down now, talking with the thin man in the dark coat, the DI in the gray looked irritated, but he was talking to the Doctor as well. Luca would give anything to be a lip reader.

"I want him!"

"Yeah but if he's injured the General wont accept him for entry. Remember the last one from New Zealand. He had a bad leg, and the General killed Freddie over it. He hates to loose money."

"A test then?" Chazz shrugged at Luca's proposal.

PC Jeffrys started to tape off the area as that ass Anderson had instructed, when he heard a voice that sometimes haunted his nightmares.


	3. COINCIDENCE AND NIGHTMARES

**CHAPTER 3. COINCIDENCE AND NIGHTMARES**

John didn't have the patience for today, and something about looking at a dead young man in a uniform made his stomach turn and his headache pound even louder.

So when Sherlock and Anderson started their normal territorial dance of words laced with barbs and insults he stood up and turned on them both, his back to the body.

The smell of the desert sometimes crept up on him when memories were sparked, blood and so much death.

Sure he'd patched up a few and sent them home but not everyone made it. How many desperate attempts to remove bullets to tie off a tourniquet with surprisingly steady hands slippery with blood but steady, only to have the patient, a soldier die in the middle of his efforts. He would leave them and move on to the next as the body was put on a stretcher and carried away and there was always more wounded.

"Boys this isn't the place or the time."

Sherlock and Anderson both turned to the normally soft-spoken Doctor, in fact Anderson hadn't heard the man speak more than a few words to Sherlock when examining a body in the past. Of course it had always been in support of the freaks theory never Anderson's so Anderson usually ignored the shorter man. But the clipped voice, carried a tone he hadn't heard before and by the look of the usually smug detective neither had he.

"Now Anderson if you let Sherlock just do what he's come here for without the usual tantrum then he'll be off your scene a lot faster." Sherlock smiled now the obnoxious expression of arrogance returned but then the Doctor turned to him. "You, could you not antagonize him? This bickering only delays us. Don't you have a body to examine? And you Anderson I'm sure you have some poor interns to harass."

Lestrade covered up a laugh with a hard cough, but Sherlock's narrowed eyes in his direction told him it wasn't very convincing. Sure enough Sherlock moved to study the scene in his usual hypnotic manner, taking in the facts, then looking over the body.

"You alright there Doctor you're looking a little green under the gills?" Sherlock looked up at his companion from his crouched position near the deceased PC. Lestrade had been correct John was looking unusually pale, was he sick or coming down with something?

Working in that bacteria infested incubator of a hospital it wouldn't surprise the consulting detective. No, he corrected himself, something else, John had accompanied him running on less sleep in the past, what was different about today?

"Oh, its just 32 hours of sleep deprivation. Nothing unusual." The Doctor offered a reasuing smile.

Sherlock caught the tired tone in his friend's casual reply. Maybe he should let Watson sleep in the cab home. Was the Doctor hungry?

Yes, that's right, the good Doctor needed constant nourishment something Sherlock never understood, digestion slowed his thought process but it was the opposite for his friend. He scanned the area, moving his eyes from his friend, his cool gray eyes fell on a young PC who Sherlock had walked right past without notice, but this young man in his constable uniform looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Sherlock followed the constable's line of sight and he found it centered on John?

Odd, Sherlock's shoulders tightened his mind firing off deductions within seconds, determining the possible dangers and it came to him. Another quick glance and he found another young constable, well maybe both these men were about two years younger than himself, but age was irrelevant compared to the experience of life. And Sherlock had experienced much in his lifetime, much more than he liked to remember.

He sensed his friends mood, and made a quick decision knowing how John was uncomfortable with any kind of recognition the less to witness the better, he sighed heavily oh these distractions, but maybe this would cheer his friend up a little.

"Lestrade can you tell me why so many PC's and SC's?" he started away from the body covering it up. "John we are through here, will you call us a cab." He handed Doctor Watson a protein bar causing his friend to chuckle.

"To answer your question some of them were volunteers from the District this man worked in. You know my usual team, why do you ask?" Sherlock wasn't listening he'd turned his curiously as two men approached his friend.

Jeffrys felt the memory fresh as yesterday wash over him, hearing the Captains voice brought it back. That same controlled voice, Jeffrys heard it sometimes when the dreams of twisting metal threatened to drown him.

**~0~**

"Stay down! Get those men out of there ! You there! Draw the fire away from those burning vehicles! Private can you hear me?" Jeffrys's ears rang from the explosion muffling these chaotic sounds, but someone was yelling at him, his leg burned, as did his back. The driver was dead, they'd just been talking joking, "Private!" The Doctor was a stocky man; he shouted orders and two other men came to his aid. Jeffrys concentrated on the words of this man, he sounded so sure, so as a matter of fact that nothing not even death could defy his orders.

"Your going to be fine son! Just fine. I have to get the shrapnel out, it wont be pleasant but I want you to listen to my voice. Concentrate on it, try to stay awake, for me, you have a slight concussion. What's your name?"

 

"Jeffrys!" Donovan barked "Get that area tapped off!" He snapped out of his daydream. He'd been a private then later medically discharged after the accident but he'd never forgotten the man who pulled him half conscious from the turned over vehicle. For this reason he started towards the man who just ended a quick phone call. How often had he told his wife that story, told his partner on patrol? And here was the man, a hero, wearing a black jacket zipped up it was a bit cold, and jeans. But it was him, Jeffrys wouldn't ever forget his voice or his face.

"Sir." The dark haired constable spoke removing his hat,  the Doctor didnt looked up from his phone, no doubt unaware that the constable was addressing him.

"Captain?" That caught John Watson's attention; his back stiffened, and he turned facing the young man. Lestrade and Sherlock watching curiously at this exchange. "It is you isn't it? Captain Watson Sir?" The younger man saluted and John felt a bit embarrassed,

"oh, not anymore-er"

"Sorry sir Jeffrys, William Jeffrys. It's an honor sir." He took Johns hand and gave it a firm shake. "I don't expect you to remember me, but I could never forget you sir."

Sherlock watched his friend look uncomfortably for a polite way of exit, only to be approached by another PC, this constable removed his hat as well and offered his hand. The two young officers didn't know each other but they knew John, Sherlock wondered at the coincidence, or was it?

"What's that about?" Lestrade had waved off the ambulance, they'd loaded the body and the other non-essential personnel were being dismissed. He frowned watching the Doctor smiled tightly, he'd never seen John look so painfully uncomfortable in any social situation. And that was saying much considering the predicaments his mad flatmate put him in.

"Cole, sir, Robert Cole. Its an honor sir. I can't believe you're here on a crime scene. I heard you got shot." Both men looked at John now expecting an answer or a long winded story maybe.

"Oi! You two quit harassing the Doctor he's got better things to do!" Donovan growled. "Get to work!" John never thought he'd be more grateful to the bully of a sergeant but he couldn't hide the look of relief.

"John when you're done." Sherlock called out, and the Doctor gave both men a quick handshake.

"What was so important?" Donovan growled "Do you know the Doctor?"

"Who could forget that man? Saved my life, you know he is a war hero? Even received a metal to prove it." Donovan looked on Cole in disbelief.

"That man, the Doctor? A war hero? Well he can't be too sane working with Sherlock Holmes."

"Of course that's Sherlock Holmes." Jeffrys looked on in awe, "Makes sense then."

"Hows that?" Donovan snapped crossing her arms over her chest.

"You would have to be a great man to run with one." Donovan rolled her eyes.

"Get to work, and you Cole you're dismissed I'm sure your district will be missing you on their traffic division." Cole shook Jeffrys' hand never having met till today and took his leave.

Donovan scrutinized the Doctor his movements were ordinary, sure he walked maybe a steadier gait than most, one could say it was a march-how did they not know this about the seemingly common man. Obviously it made sense now. He was a nutter just like the freak no wonder the two got along famously.

**The DIOGENES CLUB**

Mycroft Holmes put his hands to his temples, if it wasn't one thing it was another when it came to his little brother. He looked over the pictures on his

desk spread out, the man in them one Mathew DeLuca. AKA Luca, ex military dishonorably discharged, escaped a military prison that he and several

others had been sentenced to for war crimes. He popped up Government radar several years back, the man and his associates hired guns for one

Ceaser Capricio, an arms dealer, human trafficker and dabbled in drug running and a list of other illegal hobbies.

That's not why Mycroft was looking over the file today, it seemed that this man this Luca was known to be in London picking up some unknown cargo for his boss as well as take care of some personal business. Mycroft's reliable contacts were only able to intercept a phone call and some picture mail without detection. The pictures were of one Watson, John H. formally Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. And to Mycroft's displeasure and irritation, John was a target for revenge. The message simply read ** _"Made an appointment for a Doctor."_**

Captain John Watson it seemed, had made himself a dangerous enemy when he testified years ago against DeLuca, his testimony and that of a now deceased Lt. were key in putting DeLuca and accomplices away.

Mycroft snapped into his phone, he'd already built a complex operation worth years of planning to bring down Capricio and if Sherlock got involved because John went and got himself kidnapped or killed, everything would come crumbling down, and there was no telling the Doctor or his compulsive little brother would live to hear him threaten their lives. Best to nip this one in the bud before things got out of hand turning into another nightmare for Mycroft to clean up after. That was the reason he decided for adding extra security, and of course not for sentimental reasons. Even though a good man like the Doctor shouldn't have this kind of trouble in his life, he'd lived through enough. And Sherlock had once made Mycroft promise to keep John safe, even though he'd said it at the beginning of his little three year hiatus, a promise was a promise and a Holmes never went back on a promise.

"Put extra security on the Doctor priority 2."


	4. PLANS IN ACTION

**CHAPTER 4. PLANS IN ACTION**

Mycroft scanned the photos recently hand delivered by one of his many agents. His PA still with her cell in hand begin to debrief him on the situation.

"Sir, as you know we've gathered more intel on the man Mathew DeLuca aka Luca." Mycroft examined the photograph of a man crossing a street. Luca held a dark expression, dark, cold everything about him screamed mercenary. "His known associates are all listed here in this file," she handed the boss a thick file folder with the words confidential printed across.

"Interesting" Mycroft scanned the names, two he could easily scratch off, just having received information that they had been "dwelt" with. But the others, various crime bosses, drug cartel leaders and a few wepons traders. He was just another hired gun by Capricio, one that formally was in her majesties army. Dishonorable discharge a rather long stint in military prison, one he managed to have shortened by way of escape. Mycroft easily guessed it was a pay off, he would look into that.

"Up the security detail on my brother and 221B, keep your distance god knows my brother can spot an agent a mile away let along on a park bench across the street. As for Doctor Watson he is a little easier to keep in sights. "

Mycroft had another file on his desk one he'd glanced over before, even then he'd missed this detail. He debated on speaking with Sherlock and informing him on the situation, but it was better he handled this quickly and quietly. Knowing his brother would find a way to get himself or the doctor killed. No, no it was best to track down DeLuca and head him off. Of course through the appropriate channels, naturally.

**~0~**

DeLuca hadnt come this far in his career as a gun for hire, to not know when he was being tailed. So the government caught wind of his arrival? Understandable, but they couldn't know his reasons for coming home to dear old England. Time to loose the tail, it wouldn't be hard after all he was trained in stealth and has had some pretty good practice over the years.

"No." Sherlock protested, "I am too busy, I'm in the middle of a case. Besides it all sounds so dull. "

"I happen to know dear brother that you are not so busy, Lestrade hasn't had any more leads and neither have you for weeks now. It's likely the killer has moved on." Sherlock threw himself down onto the couch, kicking his feet up and laying flat his hands now under his chin in the usual praying position.

"Go away." he growled.

"Why must you fight me at every turn." Mycroft sat now in Sherlock's leather chair.

"John!" Sherlock called hearing the front door opening. "JOHN! COME QUICK!" Sherlock shouted, and Mycroft rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, clutching his umbrella, his brother always managed to get under his skin and in a short span of time.

Doctor Watson then flung open the door expecting the worst perhaps a mad man brandishing a firearm, or a robber the possibilities endless when one had to guess. If he'd only observed and used his eyes to see, he would have noticed Mycroft's black car parked around the corner, and though Sherlock's voice had been an urgent plea it held a ring of annoyance not fear. Not that his dear brother had ever been afraid. Well, there was that one time.

"Sherlock?" John panted, he'd taken the steps three at a time nearly broke his neck, only to enter the apartment to find his flatmate pouting on the couch and his older brother in an expensive tan suit looked more than annoyed.

"Tell him to leave." Sherlock pointed irritably at his brother.

"Ah, Doctor Watson so nice to see you again." Mycroft took the shorter mans hand in a firm handshake. A lot you could find out about a man with a handshake. Starting with the gesture itself. John stepped forward his shoulders straight and his eyes meeting Mycroft's he gave a firm squeeze and it was Mycroft to release first. The ex soldier like most returned from war didn't like to be touched. The doctor held an easy smile, genuine, and that was the doctor in a nutshell.

His handshake gave the impression that John Watson was an honest man of little words. Yet at any moment ready for an explosion or an ambush alert by how he balanced himself on his feet. Mycroft recalled the data he'd collected on the young doctor. He was well liked, honorable and a crack shot. Strong morals indeed, this is what got him into this mess.

Sherlock of all people seemed to have made an unlikely friend in Doctor John Watson. He'd done so much for Sherlock in the little time they'd known each other, proven his loyalty time and time again, putting his life before others. Mycroft looked him over again, a dangerous trait in one who ran with Sherlock.

"I am so glad that your home. I was just trying to convince my brother to help me with this case." he handed the file to the shorter man, knowing damn well he wouldn't reject it. Predictably John took it opening the file right away. If he couldn't get his brother to take this case and leave London just for the little while it took to relocate Luca and neutralize him as a threat. He'd have to resort to less honorable methods of persuasion, like kidnapping and he really didn't want to drug John again or have someone hit him over the head.

"What's the case?"

"Its a matter of great importance for the state." That would reel him in, he was after all a loyal servant of the Queen. "You see there, its a series of robberies going on in the country estates, some of these estates are owned by well they are owned by very wealthy men and it seems that a ring of thugs have targeted their houses. I had hoped you and my brother would investigate. As a favor of course. I would be very grateful."

"NO. I refuse to do anything that will only secure favor among the political dim wits you surround yourself with." Sherlock pouted. 

"Sherlock." a reproachful tone. Mycroft watched amused as his younger brother made a face.

"John you cant consider-"

"Well we dont have anything interesting going on now, and a trip to the country could be good for you get some sun. And Lestrade will call us if there is anything new."

"I hate sun. And fresh air. Dull, all of it. So very dull. It's deplorable that the cop killer has decided on a vacation."

"Sherlock." John closes the folder, trying another approach ignoring the previous comment. "You said last week you wanted to study the decay rate of flesh in the cold season. Well its perfect weather for such-"

"You're right John! I had forgotten." Sherlock clapped his hands together jumping to his feet.

"And while we are out there the least we can do is have a look around."

"Fine." Sherlock grumbled, he plopped back onto the couch, only to roll over on his side his back to his flatmate and brother. Observing of course, a fleeting look in his brother's face. Was that relief? What was Mycroft up to now?

John frowned his phone buzzed, the hospital needed him back for another shift Robbie had called in sick. He sighed and headed back out the door, "We'll have to leave tomorrow. Looks like another busy night for me. " Jon said goodbye apologizing quickly for his hasty retreat.

After he'd left Sherlock sat up his face painfully cold, but those icy gray eyes intense on Mycroft's own cool expression.

"What is it Mycroft? Why are you trying to get rid of us so desperately? What's going on?" Mycroft shook his head looking even more exasperated.

"Sherlock-"

'You can lie to John, or any of your idiot minions but never to me Mycroft. Now tell me what is so important?"

_**~0~** _

Deluca watched through his sniper lens, there he was, Captain John Watson, now a civilian, an ordinary looking man in his brown jumper and fading jeans, looking content as ever. Well Deluca would have fun with him before he killed him.

Sherlock glanced at the photos, to anyone else the grotesque evidence of war crimes would have made the most seasoned officer sick, but Sherlock wasn't affected by that he was more intrigued by how long the killer kept his victims alive, the different cuts that lined their bodies all made by the same hand.

"Seems our good doctor was one of the men who brought Luca down, John shot him in the leg than cuffed him." Sherlock held the photo of a cool faced Captain holding a gun on his bleeding fellow soldier. The snap shop had been taken by a spectator with a shoddy camera phone, but Sherlock could read the cold anger in a younger John Watson's face. This wasn't his John yet, this man hadn't been shot and forced to retire, no.

That man there in the photo his tanned face slightly shadowed by his helmet, that was a man hell bent on justice. Outraged by the crimes committed and committed by a man sharing the same uniform. Authority radiating from his every action, his movements and gestures quick, deliberate and stern. Scanning the other photos of that John Watson, Sherlock betrayed a proud smile, Captain Watson had arrested the other three men, having them unarmed and on their knees hands behind their heads until MP's showed up.

Luca snorted thinking of how everyone thought of Watson as a hero, he wasn't anything important, but a damned rat snitch with no loyalty to his brothers in arms, no he cared more for the criminal terrorists they were supposed to be fighting. Bleeding heart-he smiled yes, yes a bleeding heart indeed. He continued to watch the Doctor make his way down the near empty street.

_**~0~** _

"Sherlock!" Mycroft growled as his brother dropped the photos allowing them to scatter, he knew that realization hit the consulting detective, the awful truth that this time it wasn't him that the danger hung over, no-it was John.

"Why didnt you tell me! Tell me sooner! Instead of making up some case! I could see right through!? "

"Because I knew your reaction." in reality Mycroft hadn't considered this reaction from his little brother. Always so unpredictable when it came to the doctor.

"There's more inst there? Something else you haven't told me?" Sherlock advanced on his brother.

"Those random killings." Mycroft sighed.

"The constables?"

"Yes. It seems Luca had something to do with them. We haven't figured out what. He's been making his way across Europe, dropping bodies of ex military men, all police or some form of public or government security. Most have the same execution wounds, but none are linked. I have my best men on this. And I've alerted Lestrade. Due to the pattern we think he's going to pick up two more in London, but we have no idea how he chooses them. We do however know that the next one on his list is-"

"John?" Sherlock's face lost all color. "We need to leave immediately, right now. That mad man with a gun must be aware of the security detail around us. It's only a matter of time before he comes for John directly. We must find him, have your best man take John to the country. Yes, yes that's it straight away, get a car!"

Ah, if the situation wasn't entirely so serious Mycroft would have taken joy in the tables being turned, Sherlock now playing the role of concerned brother. Yes these two were unlikely but they were friends, closer than Mycroft and Sherlock, this truth never bothered Mycroft. Mycroft came to realize that wasn't one sided at all, especially after his brothers "fall".

The notorious Iceman couldn't understand the worry he himself held for the Doctor, at first he had reasoned his sudden protectiveness was due to the close proximity of John to Sherlock. But further investigation told him this wasn't entirely true. Why couldn't he have been blessed with a younger brother like John, someone who knew duty understood organization and had a strong steady personality? Sherlock was cold like Mycroft cold and logical, when one dealt in facts and logic it didn't hurt to remain emotionless. Something Sherlock had agreed with him on, until well until meeting this Doctor. And John, John Watson was warm and light in the dark.

"I have men watching him closely. We must not alert him to the danger. And you Sherlock Holmes will leave this up to me, and it will be _YOU_ to escort the doctor to our home estate in the country. I will not bend on this."

**~0~**

John slipped his white coat on, took the chart up for his next case, entering the exam room. "Well Mr- Robbie what the hell?" he looked up to see his colleague, mouth tapped and hands tied behind his back. Those were his last thoughts before he felt a pinch at the back of his neck, and then darkness.


	5. WHO BY BARBITURATES

CHAPTER 5. WHO BY BARBITURATES

Mycroft was in the middle of what looked like the beginning of a full blown argument which would end in an awkward silence as both brothers stubbornly refused to give in, when the older Holmes' phone vibrated in his pocket. Mycroft answered curtly turning away from his younger brother, now sulking at the window. Sherlock was tempted to pick up his violin and drive out the unwanted guest.

"Sherlock." Something in Mycroft's voice forced the pouting detective out of his childish musings. When he turned to face his brother he felt his stomach turn. An expert at deduction Sherlock read his brother's unmasked face of emotion, and he knew. It was too late, they had John. They had him, and his fate could very well be that of those in the photographs still littering the floor of the sitting room.

"John! Wake up!" John heard the urgency in the familiar voice, didn't his flatmate know he was tired, exhausted. Why was he so tired, his eyelids heavy, work, he'd gone to work. No, this was a dream or was this the dream.

"John!" No, maybe he'd been screaming in his sleep again, what had he been dreaming about? Opening his eyes slowly, John could only see a soft haze of movements, lights, and voices. When did he get home? This wasn't home, what was it he was supposed to do? Work, he should get up for work, unfamiliar voices seemed to be muffled, arguing.

"John! John you must wake up!" It was Sherlock again, in his head; maybe it wasn't Sherlock, but the echo of a dream, or his own subconscious taking on the form of annoying flatmate trying to get his attention.

John felt dazed, his vision distorted where could he be? Was it his room? His body heavy and his movements so listless. No, something held his hand, his wrist, he tried to pull up on both arms but they were pinned? No just weighty, his whole body felt heavy. This sent off alarm bells, but he found himself unconcerned, someone was leaning over him. Did he know them? A sound escaped him, or he thought it came from him, he had tried to form words but he lost the concept of words just as quickly.

"John! Wake up!" insistent, urgent almost.

"Sherlock?" he tried to wave his flatmate away, couldn't the man see he was tired, why was he tired again?

"John you need to wake up!" What did Sherlock want now, he wasn't due for work-work, wait work. He'd gone into work for Robbie-his eyes widened and he wasn't in his room. There was a man talking, did he know this guy? Why did his face look somewhat familiar, the way he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. John could see better now, just a bit a soft haze clung to the edges of his vision and the sounds of voices muffled. But looking up at the ceiling he made out the familiar surroundings. An ambulance? He wasn't hurt, he'd been in the hospital exam room, Robbie had been tied. And John could taste the bitterness that IV drugs often left behind, he'd been sedated before, he knew the feeling and one never forgets the taste. He needed to get out, these men where killers, for some reason they targeted him, maybe to get to Sherlock. Sherlock? Where was he, at home, he was home, with Mycroft. He was safe, the two were safe and that gave John some relief although he couldn't quiet make himself feel to much worry about anything, ah yes sedatives they did that to a man, dulling the senses.

John tried his hands again, they didn't feel so heavy but he still felt drunk, the ambulance stopped now, he couldn't feel the vibrations any longer, the sound of tires on a bumpy road. One man-the driver got out, he could hear more muffled talking and the man in glasses read something on his mobile. John new he'd have to make some kind of move and now. Who ever these men were they meant business, and John refused to play victim, not today. He swore years ago he'd never be a weapon used against his friends.

Chazz hadn't thought to dose the captain again, he'd been quiet the whole ride, and now they waited for the other transport van. This waiting was the boring part, so he checked his phone for messages, Chazz remembered to email the pictures of the man from earlier the thin one in the dark coat to his a reliable contact, the two exchanged information for several years now, mostly through texts, that's why Chazz was startled when his phone rang almost instantly after hitting send.

"Don't call this number anymore. I don't want any part of this business. " Was the cold voice on the other end.

"What-" Chazz started to protest but the line went dead.

He'd turned his head back to the unconscious prisoner, and didn't expect or see the IV stand that had been loosely hooked to the bed like an antennae on a car, but sturdier, swing forward and come down hard against the back of his skull, knocking him instantly unconscious.

John fumbled now, breathing heavily, damn his vision he was seeing double, he grabbed for the phone that the other man had dropped. Searching for a weapon, he found a knife, not much of a weapon but John would take what he could get.

Drunkenly scooting off the narrow cot, slowly opening the back of the truck, hearing nothing now. Still he knew another man maybe two or three where outside. The cold chill of spring sobered his numbed sentences slightly. Still wearing his lab coat he stumbled from the truck falling to his knees, he forced himself to stand. Cautious of the two men now talking to the left of the ambulance, but they were arguing, and hadn't heard the struggle within, so John decided to go off in the opposite direction, the night was dark and he could see city lights off in the distance.

It took John a minute before he realized he carried the strangers mobile in his hand. Shakily he focused on the touch screen dialing a number he could never forget. The voices of two men grew louder from the other side of the ambulance; he didn't care what the argument was about as long as it kept them occupied.

The ringing on the other end felt as if it echoed through his head, cutting through the numbed fogg that surrounded him. The drugs still heavy in his system threatened to overwhelm him, already he held tight to the phone, barely managing to keep upright. John felt like a raft lost out in a sea of darkness, swaying helplessly. And then, a voice like a line cast out to draw him in, cut through his growing distress.

"Sherlock Holmes." John could hear the voice clear, strong, unshaken, it steadied the fluid dizzy motions of this dark, in the nowhere that the doctor stood in.

"Sssherlock-" John's teeth chattered.

"John! John where are you?"

"Dunno. Cold dark." John heard the sounds of a struggle. It was all to confusing, there was nothing to hide behind, no trees no buildings. Just darkness, suffocating darkness.

The sounds of a gunfire nearly caused him to drop the phone.

"John!" the voice again forcing him to focus, still his slow reflexes warned that a person or persons were aware of his escape and headed in his direction. He wanted to say more to the voice on the phone, something-important.

Sherlock could hear the sound of a struggle, John had slurred his words as if he'd had to many at the local pub. Most certainly the good doctor had been drugged. The sound of gunfire and silence, "John!" Sherlock felt his own world spinning, his feet threatened to come out from under him.

John Watson may have been drugged but he had some fight in him and it did feel good to disarm the other man, although in the struggle for the gun it had gone off, alerting the other pursuers of his location. He'd managed to knock out the stranger. He took up the hand gun, and moved to pick up the phone laying at his feet, but that was as far as he would get before someone tackled him from behind. Now the surprised grunt of his faceless attacker as John brought the almost forgotten knife up into the mans side. He tried to push the now heavy weight from him, struggling to stand only to be assaulted by another pinch and the sour taste of sedative flooded his senses.

"Oh you do have such a fighting spirit. I do miss that. Sleep Doc, it's not time for you to wake up yet. Shame you killed Victor. He was a pretty good guy, but not replaceable."

"John!" Sherlock felt sick and someone picked up the mobile.

"Oh, Captain Watson is sleeping I'm afraid." The male voice on the other end sounded winded, but in control non-the less. "Can I take a message." He sniffed, good John had broken the mans nose.

"Give him back. And I let you live."

"oh, that's no way to talk to me you don't even know me."

Sherlock tried to stall to buy time for Mycroft's men to pin point the signal.

"DeLuca." Sherlock growled and the man controlled his breathing, still panting from the run and the struggle with the doctor.

"You have the pleasure of knowing my name, I'm at a disadvantage. Who is it I'm speaking with?"

"What do you want?"

"Oh, I don't want money if that's what you're asking, I just want revenge."

John tried to will himself to turn over, everything spun out of control he could hear a voice distant angry, like an animal needing to be put down. He was reminded of another monster, and fear flooded him, I will burn you, I will burn the heart out of you. His drugged mind confused the logical thought that screamed Moriarty was dead, but this threat was real.

Luca was a little curious as to who he was talking with, who would the Doctor call? A policeman? No the person on the other line sounded more intimate he knew the Captain. The way he spoke, clean, crisp a cold calm to his voice. A friend, maybe the man in the ridiculous dark coat. Luca's thoughts became distracted when he watched the Doctor try to roll over, to crawl away, "I'm going to have to up the dosage you stubborn bastard." He growled and fired one shot into the Doctors leg.

Sherlock heard the cry of pain, and surprise and his mind went wild trying to deduce where on the body his friend had been struck. "I'll kill you!" he growled.

Pain, white hot, sobering pain shot through the fog that had taken residence in John's brain, he clumsily tried to locate just where he'd been hit, his leg? Upper thigh, he corrected himself forcing shaking unsteady hands to clasp over the bleeding wound. Medical training dictated that was the correct procedure, stop the blood from pouring out.

"Oh, Doctor I've been wanting to do that for a while now. To repay the favor. Sorry for interrupting your call to your girlfriend. He is a pretty one, funny never figured you as that type of fellow but we all have our secrets I guess." Luca crouched down observing the moaning doctor, "odd you shouldn't really feel that, give it a minute so the sedative can truly kick in. Tell me? Can you feel this?" Luca put the tip of his 9mm still hot from firing a bullet over the hole in the ex soldiers upper thigh. The injured man, gasped his body shaking and Luca dug it in rejoicing at the sounds that came through Watson's clinched teeth. And to his disappointment the man fell unconscious.

"Like I said mate the Doctor's a little tired, he wont be taking any house calls." Luca ended the call cutting off the beginning of a threat.  



	6. WHO SHALL I SAY IS CALLING?

CHAPTER 6. WHO SHALL I SAY IS CALLING

"Luca why did you kill Turk? What was that argument about? What about the two possible recruits?" Chazz felt a little nervous.

"It seems that there is some unwanted heat from the Government dogs, probably the ones tailing us. Turk thought it had something to do with our Doctor. His team were spooked and he pulled out of the operation. No worries, I sent a message to Capricio he's feeling the pressure as well, he has a bad feeling about London. He wants to move out without the recruits."

"What? Did you tell him we've got the Captain? He could very well be in the games. And didn't Turk nab at least one other?"

"Capricio said his fellow gamblers all have scattered, there is a whisper a rumor running around. Something about The Gohst. That's just some myth made by one government or another trying to keep mercenaries in line. I don't believe in The Gohst." Chazz frowned putting a hand to his throbbing head.

"That could be why my contact refused to speak to me, something has him anxious. I cant get anyone to answer a text and I wanted more data concerning security at the airport. I still haven't received confirmation on our shipping container. But Vinny said he'd meet us here with a clean van."

"Good, I tied off the bleeding, but I really could care less if he bleeds to death. I just want some time with him. I waited far to long to just let him go.I say we take a vacation, bring the Doctor to the black forest we still have that nice little hunters lodge." Chazz pushed his glasses up over the bridge of his nose, the frames had been slightly damaged after his attack not to mention the throbbing headache, he couldn't wait to return the favor.

"I handcuffed him he wont be getting loose anytime soon." Luca leaned against the back of the Turks black van. He took it seeing how the other man wouldn't need it.

"Oh, here comes Vinny right on time." Chazz smiled at their old acquaintance.

"Boys, long time no see. Its been a while." The tall dark haired man in a mechanics dirty coveralls jumped out of his black van. "Just freshly chopped. I'll be taking yours of course." Vinny grinned handing the keys over. "Rough night boys?" He glanced over the bruised faces of both men, receiving no answer he only shrugged.

"How much?"

"Same price boys, even though inflation as gone up, bad economy and all. But we are old friends so we'll keep it the same price."

"Hey, thanks Vinny. You hear anything about Government goons fishing around?" The dark haired mechanic shrugged.

"Ah, word on the street is they are looking for someone. But I don't really deal in information anymore. Something was stolen from some big wig string puller. He's sent his dogs loose, poor bastards when they are found. I keep it less complicated with vehicles and papers. Why do you ask?"

Luca went to load up the van leaving Chazz to iron out business, he hated small talk.

"Oh, one more thing." Chazz pulled out his phone, the screen was badly scratched but at least it still worked.

"Yeah."

"I got a quick question. Can you tell me anything about this man? I sent his picture out to a few of my contacts and they haven't responded." Vinny smiled easily.

"Sure, I'll do my best you know I've been out of the loop-" the olive skinned mechanics faced paled.

"What?" Chazz asked.

"Please tell me-" his voice suddenly short, he took a quick shaky breath. "I heard the British Government is out looking for mercenaries that have picked up something that belongs to him."

"The British Government?"

"Where have you been, that you don't know who the Iceman is?"

"Sure we've heard of the bloke. One of the puppet masters working behind the screen-"

"Not just a puppet master THE puppet master."

"So." Chazz shrugged.

"You've got a picture of his brother Sherlock Holmes. Haven't you heard of him?"

"Doesn't ring a bell, but we've been working in South Africa these last couple years."

"Oh, let me jog your memory friend." Vinny sounded furious, looking around now as if expecting someone to jump out of the rafters or from behind the vans and shoot him. "You've heard of Moriarty?"

"Of course, I'm no idiot. We were going to join his little circle, of well-paid guns for hire before the collapse of his organization. What's he got to do with it? I heard some government mole got to him."

"Well the man you have a picture of, brought down the Moriarty Empire. He killed Moriarty or rumor has it, he got the psychopath to kill himself. Next thing you know the bodies of all Jim's partners and underlings started washing up on shore shortly after. That man there is known as the Ghost . Sherlock Holmes. And he is just as much a scary genius as Moriarty only he works for the other side. And he in three years brought down an empire that it took Moriarty ten to build. All because that psychopathic Irishmen threatened Holmes' friend or friends. You mate are in a world of trouble if you've taken something that belongs to him-especially if he's got the British Government involved. You'll end up like Moran if you know what I mean." Chazz listened his heart pounding he'd heard of the Iceman as a whisper and the Ghost rumors he never paid attention to, just thought it a hearsay like a boogie man for mercenaries. But everyone had heard of what happened to Sebastian Moran.

"What the hell are you babbling about?" Luca tossed an unconscious man into the back of the new van, as if he were nothing more than luguage. Vinny's eyes shot over to the fair haired man, taking in the blood soaked bandage wrapped around his thigh.

"What did you take?" the mechanic asked slowly.

"Nothing of value-"

"What did you take?" more urgent.

"It can't be anything important. We were in town doing business, Luca had a score to settle."

"Who did you-"

"You wouldn't know him, he's just a civilian."

"Oh Dear GOD, " Vinny walked over to the back of the open van, the one he'd brought for them, and he started to laugh now, it was an odd laugh Chazz thought, one that found no humor rather pity.

"You have the Doctor? Doctor Watson, don't you?"

"Yeah so."

"So? You and all those associated with you are dead. Moriarty and his associates all met an unfriendly end, the kind of nightmares and some even disappeared, the kind of disappearance that means they never existed. No electronic information, no pictures no one remembered them. All because Moriarty threatened. A-a threat a spoken threat to Sherlock! And you've abducted the man's best friend and closest colleague, Christ man that's his blogger! Don't you do your research? 24 hours is what you have to live. Less than that if the mans dead or in anyway damaged. Mycroft Holmes runs this city-does Capricio know what you two idiots have gotten up to? You know what don't answer that! Like I said our deal is over. I wont be hearing from you again. I'm getting out of town." Chazz frowned still offering the payment and keys, but the mechanic put his hands up in surrender. "NO! Nope." He started to leave. "You've already made me apart of this!" Luca pulled his gun out and shot the man six times. Chazz flinched and turned to face his partner.

"We gotta dump the body and now."

"I haven't had my fill yet. Besides he's still breathing."

"But it makes sense! If what he said was true-"

"Forget what he said. Lets scratch the original plan. I ve got an idea." He took his phone and called one of the men that had helped him last night, the one that Watson hadn't killed, and the one he hadn't shot. It made sense now, Turk had been very paranoid, and when he heard what Luca had done he wanted his cut and wanted to leave. Luca had shot him in front of Victor and Rick. Rick was disposing of their unwanted cargo, but Luca hoped he wasn't to late, he could use the extra man.

"Rick! Want some extra cash?"

The first time the phone had rang Mycroft's techs had tried to get the signal by the time a team showed up there was nothing in that field but tire tracks an empty ambulance and blood. Lab reports showed the blood around the ambulance belonged to a thug by the name of Turk, it was the blood found a few feet away that bothered Sherlock, some was that of another goon Victor Armillo, and John Watson. No bodies, of course not, Sherlock clenched his dark locks in his hands. On top of this Lestrade was missing one of his PC's. He also found that another had been attack in an attempted abduction. It all had to be linked somehow, but how. The two men targeted had been the ones who spoke to John at the last crime scene.

The second time it rang Sherlock answered "Sherlock Holmes." With a hopefulness.

"Sherlock" it was John a ruff whisper but it was John.

"John! Where are you?"

"Mr. Holmes how very nice to finally know who it is I am doing business with."

"What do you want?"

"No. No, lets not be mad. It seems we've had a misunderstanding. I seem to have taken something that I had no idea was of value to you. So I'm proposing a truce. How about I give him back. And you let me and my associate leave no feelings hurt. Do we have a deal."

"And why would I make such a deal."

"I could just shoot him, like this." Luca turned and happily shot the doctor again, but enough to just pierce his left arm, the doctor cried out in surprise, he hadn't been ready for the sharp pain, and the sedative had already worn off. John felt the bullet slice past his arm, nothing to bad but enough to leave a scar and need stitches, the bullet ricochet in the van and finally went through the front windshield.

Luca heard the swearing on the other end of the phone, just the reaction he wanted. "Oh, don't worry he's still alive, but I think he's loosing enough blood. Don't you. So I will leave him somewhere and call you. So you can go and claim him. And me and my associate will go on our way. I'll take your silence as a yes. We'll be in touch." Luca ended the call and smashed the phone.

"Now we have all the time we need, doctor. Just you me and you remember my knife. I'm no Doctor myself but we should really get that bullet out before you get sick."

John held his breath, hearing Sherlock's voice had given him some form of hope, he knew his friend was to smart a man to fall for whatever magic trick these two idiots would come up with. He just hoped he could hang on till then.

"Alright Captain back on the road we go. It wont be to long a ride. We promise. Wish we could be there to see the faces of your friends when they arrive at the airport expecting to find you."

Sherlock looked over at Mycroft, both men knew it was to easy, all too easy. "Call Lestrade, tell him where to find his missing PC."

"Where are you going Sherlock?" Mycroft stood in his brothers path, had been in the field when the call came.

"I'm going where that call came from."

"They'll be long gone."

"Yes, but surely they left some clues behind something. I refuse to sit idle. You and I both know he wont let John go that easily. You saw his file the pictures, he likes to drag it out. He's going to keep John long enough to drag it out. We have to find him!"  



	7. THE ART OF INTERROGATION

CHAPTER 7. THE ART OF INTERROGATION

Sherlock knew there was nothing to find at the next location, he only needed to shake his brother. A cold anger had settled in his stomach seeing John's blood smearing the grass in that field. Anger he hadn't felt since his days of being alone and hunting down those in Moriarty's evil empire.

Sherlock waited patiently unseen, he'd lost his brothers minders hours ago. He knew the next location the criminals would go, they were going to use the PC as bait to lure them away, and Sherlock had looked over the shipping records of all airports and docs. One stood out, and he was under no illusion that the black van pulling in now with the words GENERAL CONSTRUCTION printed on the side had his Doctor within. But deduced it had a PC. He wasn't interested in the PC, although John would consider it a bonus if the man was alive.

What the consulting detective moved quietly unseen past the shipping containers towards was the driver. Another hired thug, a dumb one. Sherlock understood from the rumors on the street that all criminals in the area refused to aid the mercenaries not wishing to end up like Sebastian Moran. But this idiot hadn't got the memo, and Sherlock was glad for it.

Rick went to open the back doors he'd put a bag over the cops head, the General had a shipping container already cleared through customs no doubt another great pay off. So when Luca called offering him a bit of money just to deliver a cop to the cargo container dead or alive, he accepted right away. Easiest job ever preformed. The man at the gates had been paid so he waved him in without question. Now it was time to get the unconscious cop into the container, then he'd shoot him. Just because he hated cops.

He didn't expect to be struck over the head and loaded into the back of his own van, up until that point Rick had never believed in Karma. But it seemed Karma caught up to him anyway. Karma and a very angry thin man in a dark coat.

Lestrade. E. Airfield. bring an ambulance. Container 5634. found what you lost. Come recover.-sh

"Christ!" Jeffrys bruised face looked up at Sherlock who untied him quickly. Then at the unconscious thug he shakily let out a breath he'd held since feeling the gun pressed to his head, and hearing the sound of a slide signifying the weapon was loaded. The blood had pounded in his ears and he'd only thought of his son and wife and "Please god I don't want to die."

And then there was nothing but the release of pressure against his temple and a heavy thud that echoed through whatever place he was in.

"Lestrade should be here momentarily." Sherlock watched as the man who was visibly shaken and rightfully so, pushed the mounting emotions down and with squared shoulders and a firm voice managed to say;

"Thank you sir. I am grateful. I heard these men talking about not being able to leave the country because of all the government heat. They have him and he wont be alive long. That's all I heard."

"Its enough." Sherlock looked down at the unconscious thug.

"What will you do with him sir?"

"I am just going to interrogate our friend here." Sherlock went to pull the bigger man towards the van and to his surprise the young PC Jeffrys didn't stop him or even attempt to. Instead he grabbed the mans legs and helped Sherlock toss him non to gently into the utility van. No other words were spoken between the two, and Sherlock watched as the younger man went back to sit down in that chair Jeffrys' legs now unsteady. It was a familiar adrenaline response Sherlock had seen before, once in a public pool.

Luckily Sherlock didn't have far to drive, there being empty hangers scattered through the airfield. Nice, private and you could find just about anything in an empty airplane hanger.

"I really don't have time for this, wake up." Sherlock dumped a bucket of cold water over the unconscious thug. "That's better. I am on a time schedule here so I'll cut past the threats and go straight to the torture."

"What?" Rick opened his eyes the cold blast of water did in fact wake him right up. He soon realized he was on his back strapped to a table he couldn't move his head, it was restrained by a thick rope as were his legs. The icy gray eyes that bore into him held no pity. And the words came to Rick immediately. "Torture"

"Wait! You haven't even asked me anything yet! You cant just jump straight to-" Sherlock frowned.

"I guess your right-" and Rick flinched as a gun came out and the shot echoed in his ears. The pain was white-hot vibrating through his shoulder.

"You haven't even asked me anything!" He whimpered.

"Oops." Sherlock replied stepping closer, blood pooled behind Rick's shoulder dripping down the edge of the table.

"Ok, ok what do you want?"

"Where is he?" a question that demanded an answer straightforward, deadly.  



	8. WHO IN THE SUNSHINE?

CHAPTER 8. WHO IN THE SUNSHINE?

John winced moving past the dead body of Chazz, the fool had fell for the unconscious act. Well John couldn't take all the credit for his acting skills, he had been partly unconscious.

"If you say please I could give you a bit of this sedative, maybe dull some of the pain from what Luca's going to do with you." John hadn't replied, his skin felt hot with fever.

"There you are again, that's the Captain Watson we all know. Stubborn ass that he is. You're a fool Watson. A bloody fool. What did you care of those people they didn't know you! You didn't know them. They were the ENEMY. We were at war!"

"They weren't our enemy. They were civilians, women, children, fathers-you idiot."

"Still, I had no part in their demise but you still had me arrested! Thrown away in prison!"

"Yeah? Tell me Private, did you say anything to stop your comrades from raping and torturing those civilians?"

"They aren't even human. They breed murders and killers."

"No you, you aren't human. You are every bit of a murderer and killer as Luca. Your hands are just as bloody!"

"You would rather destroy yourself just to save others? Sounds like a fools mission. No matter-Luca said I can pull the bullet out, and I guess I will. So Just stay still, I'd hate to nick an artery or anything important."

Chazz had leaned over the doctor, "No worries I sanitized the blade, look its still smoking from where I ran a flame over it. I wonder if I should let it cool, no, no we don't have time. Luca is talking to the boss, so I only have a few minutes with you, before he comes back. He doesn't like to share his victims." John tried to brace himself for the pain, the knife was digging into his thigh, hot angry, sharp, he tried to concentrate on breathing and not being sick.

"Oh damn that didn't take long." You sure you don't want that sedative?" John forced his eyes open, pin pricks of black doted his vision, he could feel the blood starting to flow more freely it was warm now against his cold body. Why did he feel suddenly so cold, oh yeah shock, wonderful.

"I'll take your silence as a no. Oh wait doctor, stay awake now, I'll bandage that off-" And John had lost consciousness, he'd only awakened some time later slipping between awake and a nightmare he often had.

"People have died."

"That's what people do!"

"Get him on that table Chazz, I'm going to make arrangements for papers."

"Yeah. Yeah." The smaller officer growled lugging the dead weight of John Watson out of the folding chair they'd tied him too. Thinking from the look of him he wasn't going to last long. How convenient Vinny's shop had been. An excellent choice, they wouldn't be disturbed and the shop sign had been switched to closed. Not to mention all the fun tools lying around. Chazz wondered what Luca would use first, this is where his mind was as he hugged the Captain to him moving towards the metal table. Unaware of the hand reaching around and taking the still bloodied knife from his waistband.

And to Chazz's surprise he placed the doctor onto the table, grunting from the effort not caring for the heavy lifting that was usually Luca's job. But when he went to pull the Captains legs up the sharp edge of the blade met his neck. He stilled.

"You wont be able to fight us both Watson."

"I don't plan on it. How about I start with you and then move on to your friend." He growled.

"Your week, do you think I cant over power you?"

"Maybe, but you'd be a fool to try." Of course Chazz hadn't listened to the warning in the Doctors voice. The two men had struggled and now the blade was buried in the unlucky mercenaries chest. John needed to get away, he was fighting waves of darkness threatening. He needed to hide at the very least, before DeLuca came back. Knowing damn well he didn't have the energy for another struggle. If only his leg would comply, he found himself wishing for his dammed cane.

"And I know your therapist thinks your limp is Psychosomatic. Quite correctly I'm afraid that's enough going on with you don't you think?"

John had to chuckle despite the situation recalling the first conversation he'd had with his mad flatmate.

"Damn my leg!" he groaned irritably only having made it just across the shop reaching the doors.

"Hurts doesn't it?" John clutched the doors lever, his eyes clasping shut, he swore under his breath at the luck of it all.

"When I heard you'd been shot I celebrated, I hoped you'd died and at the same time I was angry those Jihadists stole the opportunity from me. It was enough to land me in the hole for breaking some sailors nose. It was worth it. And now here we are. You shot me in the leg its only fitting that I shot you there. Karma if you believe in that sort of thing." John tried to ease his breathing he needed to fight the threat of darkness his whole body quaked with fever and he knew his chance of survival was none if he gave in and passed out.

"You've lost enough blood. How the hell are you still even standing? Amazing adreniline, really amazing. I bet you're seeing double aren't you." John actually could barely see, everything felt so out of focus.

"So a colleague of mine warned that I would have 24 hours to live and even less if you were harmed or injured in some way. Well looks like its been about 13 since we snatched you from under that government dogs nose. And everyone is looking for you and I've got you. Guess you're not as valuable to your dear friends as everyone seemed to believe. Or they aren't as smart as everyone believes. I can't wait to brag to Capricio that I fooled the Holmes' brothers and murdered The Ghosts best friend. I was talking to him earlier and he said to be sure to take a picture, he'd like to be the one to send it to Mycroft himself. Seeing how your friends have been given my boss a bit of a headache ruining his games." John tried to buy time so he could think.

"Games?"

"Oh yes. See Capricio and his rich friends like to have these little hunting games. Where they pick a mercenary from their own organization and let em loose like a live video game, and everyone places a bet whose champion they chose from their team will make it to the end. At first Capricio used civilians but they tended to die earlier on. So he had an idea of using ex military except what x soldier will want to play such a game. We started abducting them from cities all over Europe. And yeah they lived a little longer most made it to the end of the game, but we couldn't just let them walk. "

"You killed them?"

"It was cheaper than paying them. Funny how they knew it was coming, but they still fought till the very end. Oh, don't look at me like that, I was sure to dump the body close to wear we took it. Chazz was great at finding new recruits. We were targeting two new likely candidates. You see you always want the ones with families. They have more to live for therefore fight a little harder to win. Than there you were-can you imagine my excitement. Here I believed you'd died out there in the sand and instead you were very much alive. And now I'm going to make you very much dead."

"Actually its only been 12 and half hours." Sherlock's cool baritone voice held an air of superiority. "And for your information I would have been here sooner but the traffic this time of day is just chaotic. I almost shot a cabbie out of irritation. "

"So Sherlock Holmes I presume." Luca didn't turn around, he felt the gun at his head. "Are you going to shoot me then?"

"No, actually I did think about it, and all the wonderful little things I could do to a man like you before shooting you. But something else crossed my mind."

"Whats that?"

"I figured my brother would rather have his turn with you. He has this way about disappearing people, a little cleaner than what I had in mind. But just as affective. I think he has a few questions he'd like to ask you about your boss. "

"You wont get me to talk."

"Oh, I don't doubt you'll try not to, but Mycroft has his little ways. You know its funny I heard another man say those exact words, but after minutes of being "questioned" he gladly gave up Sebastian Moran. Hell he'd of given up his grams to make it stop."

John slid down the cool metal of the door, relief setting in.

"All this for him?"

"Of course Deluca, where would I be without my blogger? And if he was dead than this conversation would be ending differently."

"How's that?" DeLuca took aim at the now slumped over Doctor. Sherlock only answered with a shot to the back of the mans thigh and as he went down to his knees trying to bring his own weapon up to shoot, Sherlock shot him in the arm, the bigger man dropped the gun and swore angrily.

"I could just shoot you, like that. Oh don't worry you're still alive, but I think you're loosing blood there." Deluca didn't get to reply the other man brought the butt end of the weapon down hard against his temple.

Sherlock scowled at the other man kicking the discarded weapon away out of reach.

"John?"

"You know that visit to the country is sounding better and better."

"You do know that Mycroft fabricated that case just to get u out of London. The fool thought he could contain the situation without you knowing."

"Of course, I did. You think I didn't notice the extra security he had around the place?"

"You did?"

"Give me some credit, I realized it as soon as the women walking her dogs passed by our apartment for the third time in an hour. Not to mention the black cars parked on every corner from the apartment to the hospital."

"Why didn't you-"

"I figured Mycroft had his reasons. Just thought might as well go along to the country. I actually believed it was your life in danger. Who'd want to kidnap me?"

"John you would be surprised. Now Mycroft will print out a background list of every enemy you've ever made from nursery school to present, are there any old friends I should be worried about?"

"He wouldn't?" John chuckled, the action made his vision blurr even more, he tried to concentrate on the nearing sirens screaming in the distance

"I wouldn't put it past him, he did mention a Timothy Hudgins? Ended in a bloody nose? Over a girls doll?"

"I hardly remember that, and it belonged to one of the younger girls in the park. He was just being a bully. Someone had to say something."

"I just cant understand why that someone has to be you?" Sherlock shook his head leading his friend outside. "Really John this is how it starts."

John squinted in the bright afternoon sun, the chill of the spring air eased the throbbing in his head. And was gratefully for the strong arms of the taller detective holding him, because though he could see the police cars nearing and the Ambulance behind them, the sounds all seemed to be growing more distant and his blinks became longer, and longer.

"Its alright John, go ahead and rest."

"Just going to rest my eyes. A minute."

Sherlock climbed into the ambulance with his friend, and kept his eyes trained on the pail form beneath the horrid orange shock blanket.

John Watson wasn't just anybody he was indeed a complex man, a good man. Far to good to be Sherlock's friend, but it hadn't been Sherlock's choice, John somehow for some reason chose him as a friend. And for that reason Sherlock never wished to make John regret his decision. Moriarty had tried to burn Sherlock, and he very nearly did. Instead Sherlock would come to realize the psychopathic Irishman had only ignited something within him, something deadly and uncontainable.

And Sherlock in the cold dark days following his "death" would need that conflagration, the fire that burned in him was only fanned and kept bright by the thought of his friends in danger. It was a fire he took with him when he felt the weariness. And he would burn anyone and all those associated with that person who threatened those he cared for, threatened to put out that fire. Sherlock's heart was those he cared for, and without his heart he himself would burn up.

A few hours Later

DeLuca swore irritably handcuffed and forced to sit in cement interrogation room. His leg throbbing, the door finally opened after hours of sitting. "I'm due a lawyer." He growled, and the tall man carrying a plain black umbrella took a seat in the chair across from him, leaning back he said coolly.

"Hello Mr. Deluca, my name is Mycroft Holmes. I believe you met my younger brother. Please accept my apologies, my brother Sherlock is a little unrefined and also for the time I've kept you waiting. You see a close friend of the family was in the hospital and I wished to visit and check in on his health. You know social obligations. But that aside, I have a few simple questions about your employer a Mr. Ceaser Capricio." DeLuca nervously swallowed looking to the now closed door, he was alone, with a chillingly polite British Government.

~Das Ende.~


End file.
